


Through the Night

by WildwingSuz



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildwingSuz/pseuds/WildwingSuz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to take a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Night

**Author's Note:**

> A real challenge to write. This originally came from seeing other stories with the same base premise but not handled with much finesse. Hopefully a much more realistic and true-to-character take on the idea. Begun in 2008 and finished in Oct. 2012. 
> 
> Spoilers: None really, takes place late Season 4 before Demons.

Through the Night  
Rated NC-17  
By Suzanne L. Feld

 

“I want you to make love with me.”

I stare back into wide, shocked hazel eyes. His mouth is hanging open, the dark, wiry speckles of an overnight beard sprinkling his cheeks and chin. “Wha…?”

Apparently I’ve shocked him into incoherency. Gotta write this one on the calendar, I think. Patiently I repeat, “I want you to make love with me.”

As always, Mulder recovers quickly once he gets his feet under him. “Scully… why? Why now?”

I can’t resist. “Why would I want you to make love to me? Because I’m horny and you’re the nearest man at the moment, of course,” I say sarcastically. “There’s no one else around.”

He frowns, his eyes darkening. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

I sigh and look away; I didn’t mean to piss him off or upset him. “I’m dying, Mulder, we both know it. The cancer’s metastasized and it’s only a matter of weeks before I’m bedbound, then days before the end comes. I want to have a night with you while I still look… decent.”

He leans forward over the table and takes my hand in one of his large, warm ones. “Oh, Scully.”

I glance over at him and then away again before I can see the look on his face. It took all my courage to do this and I have no idea what he’ll do with it. “This isn’t a morbid or pity thing, Mulder,” I reassure him. “This is something I want to experience before I die. Be it now or be it later,” I added, though I was certain it was going to be sooner. I could already feel the weakness invading me, the ache deep in my bones, and though I hadn’t told him, the pain in my head and sinus cavities was getting worse and more frequent by the day although the nosebleeds had abated somewhat. Today was a good day where nothing was bothering me and I could only hope it continued into the night. “It would be just one night, no strings attached.”

“Scully… you know I have strong feelings for you. But I’m not sure I can do this, no matter how attractive I find you,” he says, and I feel a second warm hand join the first in holding one of mine. “I’ve never been good at one-night stands nor at long-term relationships.”

We won’t be either, I think, but don’t have the heart to say it. I take a breath and make myself look back into his concerned eyes. “If you don’t want me, Mulder, just say—“

“I want you,” he says quietly, gazing back at me with emotion-darkened eyes. “I want you so badly that some nights it’s been all I could do not to drive over here, or smash through our connecting hotel walls like a second-rate Hulk. But not like this, not…”

His voice trails off and I nod in understanding. This hadn’t occurred to me, but I get it. I say, “Then can I ask you a different favor instead?”

“Anything, Scully.”

“Will you at least sleep over with me, share my bed, once in a while until I have to go into the hospital? You don’t have to stay here all the time, but I’d like to cuddle in bed with you if nothing else,” I say. “I haven’t spent the night with someone else since, I think, we’ve been working together, and I’ve missed it.”

“What about Jerse?” he says quietly, letting go of my hand.

I heave a sigh and force myself to hold his eyes even as I sit back in my chair and lace my fingers together over my flat stomach, which is on the verve of becoming concave as I’ve recently begun to lose weight at a rapid rate. “I didn’t sleep with Jerse, in either sense of the word,” I tell him. “We were both drunk and agreed that it wasn’t a good idea. I slept in his bed, he slept on the couch.”

“I didn’t think you had, but I also never dreamed you’d get drunk with a stranger in that part of town and then get a tattoo,” he says, undemanding or criticizing. He’s just stating fact and I know it so I don’t take offense. “But I’m glad to hear it, regardless.”

“So?” I ask, still gazing calmly at him despite feeling my heart pounding in my ears.

“Nothing I’d love more, Scully, than to spend my nights with you,” he says easily, also sitting back in his chair. “And, while I’m thinking of it, thanks for the dinner. It was wonderful.”

On that note, I get up and begin clearing the table. I invited Mulder over for dinner on this Saturday evening with seduction in mind, but had been unable to bring myself to simply coerce him. Like everything else in my life, I met the problem head-on and directly, with no subterfuge or pretense. It failed, but then I had half-expected it to and had Plan B ready. At least I don’t have to face the humiliation of actually having tried to seduce him and failed—no matter what the reason.

Mulder gets up to help me and we work in a comfortable silence. When the dishes are done we go into the living room with cups of coffee, sitting quietly side by side on the couch together for some time. Then he speaks gently into the hushed atmosphere, which is broken only by the occasional creak of the old building surrounding us. “I wish I could make love to you, Scully. God, there’s nothing I’d rather do. But once we did… I couldn’t let you go. It would kill me.”

I nod, thinking that I’d rather experience us together and lose it than never have known it. But I don’t argue with him, for once. For one thing, I won’t be the one left behind. I know he doesn’t believe in an afterlife so I can’t even mention that to comfort him.

We sit in silence for a while longer, sipping our coffee and staring at nothing. At least I am. Then he breaks the stillness again. “One question, Scully: do you love me?”

I turn to look at him, startled. It’s not what I expect, and yet it’s a Mulder-type question. His hazel eyes, a deep soft brown in this light, gaze back at me steadily and without judgment, waiting. My answer is easy. “Yes. I think I’ve been in love with you since that first night in Bellefleur when you told me about Samantha.” I wait, but he doesn’t follow up with the smartass remark I half-expect.

“I lied; I have another question: Do you believe that I love you?”

I smile at him, a little sadly, and then glance away. “I had hoped you might, but I never assumed.”

He huffs out a long sigh. “Scully, if anything is going to happen here tonight, I have to be certain of how we both feel and make sure we can handle it.”

I turn to look at him so fast that I nearly crack my neck. “I thought you said…”

He bites that full bottom lip, the muscle in his lean jaw flexing. “I know I did. I’m rethinking my original answer.”

I feel my eyebrows rise, and then I can’t help but smile a little at him. “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,’” I quote.

He tilts his head at me, conceding the point. He then quotes the previous two lines of Tennyson’s poem back at me: “’I hold it true, whatever befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most.’” Our eyes meet in perfect understanding as he reaches out a hand to me. “C’mere, Scully.”

I scoot the inch or so over next to him, almost jumping as his long arm curls around my shoulders and brings me against the side of his hard body. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man that I’ve forgotten the feel of flat, lean muscles against my softer body, the spicy smell of aftershave and the brush of a lightly stubbled chin against my cheek. But it’s all coming back to me… yes; it’s all coming back.

And it feels so good that I could cry. Please God, I think to myself, don’t let him stop. If I wasn’t so aroused I’d probably be aghast that I’m praying to get laid, but at the moment it doesn’t worry me at all.

He tips my head back with a gentle finger under my chin, gazing down at me with an unreadable expression on his face, then slowly lowers his lips to mine with plenty of time for me to pull away should I choose to. I don’t. 

Our first real kiss is gentler than I thought it would be, still and soft but arousing and passionate just the same. I can tell that Mulder is taking his time and tasting me, gently swiping my lips with his tongue to ask permission before sliding it into my mouth alongside mine. I reach up and over, curling my hand around his strong, warm neck to bring him nearer, but we’re already about as close as we’re going to get in this position. That won’t do, so without breaking the kiss I climb into his lap, swinging one leg over his thighs and settling down on them and sliding both hands around his neck to keep his face where I want it. 

There’s no complaint from the other end of the kiss; if nothing else it gets stronger, more passionate, going from gentle to intense. His hands have moved down to wrap around my waist, holding me firmly but not too tightly, and behaving far more than I want them to be at the moment. I reach back and push them down, feeling him grab my ass as silently instructed and groan into my mouth at the same time. “Jesus Scully,” he exhales against my lips as we both gasp for breath, his chest heaving against mine. 

That was fun. I’ll have to do something like it again when I get a chance.

I lean forward against him, feeling the hard, unmistakable lump of his erection against my mons and belly even as I push my breasts against his solid chest. At the same time I recapture his mouth and now the kiss has gone from passionate to practically wild. We’re twisting our heads sideways, tongues invading each other’s mouth, his hands squeezing my ass through my jeans even as I’m holding him tightly around the shoulders with my hands in his hair as if he’d try to escape. At this point I’m pretty sure that I have him right where I want him. And hopefully he’s got me right where he wants me—at least at the moment. There are other rooms I’d rather be in when we get down and dirty, but we’ll get there.

The sooner the better.

I break the kiss, panting, and look into his heavy-lidded, dark with desire eyes as I let go of his shoulders. Without saying a word I lean back against his hands and, reaching between us, begin to unbutton the light pearl-colored sweater that I’m wearing. To my surprise he doesn’t look down but instead watches my face as I do so, sliding his big, warm hands up my hips to hold me on either side of my waist beneath the sweater. I’m already loving that he’s not doing what I’d expect a man to do, but Mulder has never been just any old guy in other parts of our lives and I’m not too surprised that he isn’t sexually, either. 

This is possibly one of the most erotically-charged moments that I have ever experienced and I’m nearly trembling by the time I undo the final tiny button and spread the sweater apart. He raises his brows just a touch and we look down together, where I see the pale globes of my breasts rising and falling with my breath in the tiny white shelf bra I put on just for him. Hell, I bought for him. 

His hands slide up my sides and cup my breasts without any hesitation, and I sneak a peek at his face to see him nearly slack-jawed with arousal as he gazes at my chest. Apparently he finds nothing wrong with the way I look despite the weight I’ve lost over the last couple of months, mostly in my breasts, and I think I feel the lump against my stomach grow even larger. 

I start to reach around to unsnap the bra but he beats me there, nudging my hands out of the way and leaning against me, taking the time to nibble a kiss or two on my jaw and neck along the way. The bra falls loose and together we get my sweater and it off, then I lean back again so he can see me sitting topless in his lap, my arms behind me, hands on his knees. “Scully, I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve dreamed of this, but I never thought it would happen,” he says in a gravelly voice, running his big hands from my shoulders down the slope of my chest and over my breasts, brushing the nipples so that I inhale sharply, then cupping them again. “I don’t know how or when it happened, but you have become my dream woman.”

I throw my head back with a wordless sigh as he begins to caress me, and the next thing I know he’s leaning me even further back, holding me securely around the waist as his head dips forward. The heat and warmth of his velvety mouth on my nipple makes me exhale an unintentional moan which causes him to buck his hips against me. He licks, sucks, and nips at my breasts, and eventually I begin to realize we’re rubbing our crotches together as much as we can in this position.

Why are we not in my bed naked, I wonder dazedly, but what he’s doing to me feels too good to stop.

Our telepathy seems to be working, however, because a moment after this thought hits me Mulder lets go of my right nipple with a pop and, hands on my waist, stands me up on my feet. “I hope you’re ready to move this to your bedroom or we’re going to make a mess on your couch,” he rasps in a deep, husky voice that I’ve never heard from him before but which causes an answering jolt deep in my belly. I take a step back, he gets up, and the next thing I know I’m in his arms and we’re kissing again even as we make our way towards the back of the apartment. I’m walking backwards, he’s leaning over me, and both of us are stumbling as we bounce off of furniture and walls—I hear something shatter but don’t look or care. Somehow his grey t-shirt comes off along the way and I run my hands all over his taut, warm skin, reveling in the feel of his hard, muscular body as it bumps and knocks against mine in our hurry to get to my bed. I take a moment to tangle my fingers in his chest hair, having forgotten in the intervening years since the last time I touched a man how good it feels, that soft/rough hair over the hard muscle and soft skin.

When we finally reach the bedroom we separate and, without a word exchanged, each strip our own lower half. I don’t even bother to pull the covers back, just climb up on top of the comforter and lay back; before I can even get my arms open he’s climbing between my spread legs on his knees and bending down to kiss me with arms braced on either side of my bare body. Our eyes meet just before our mouths do, and still no words are needed. I want him, and he wants me in the most primal way of our species, and that’s good enough for us right now. Later, perhaps, will come the doubts and regrets and whatnot, but for now we are two rutting animals.

I love it. I love him.

This time Mulder does what I expect rather than the unexpected but it’s all good; after a brief, grasping, arousing kiss he rears back on his haunches and reaches down between my legs to check my readiness, sliding one long finger, then two, into my wet body with unerring accuracy. He stares down at me with his face almost slack with arousal, full upper lip curled back just enough to cause a jolt in my belly, and I assume that I’m gazing back at him with a similar expression on my face as I let out an unintentional low, guttural moan at his touch. Just the sight of his strong, lean naked body between my legs has me salivating—almost literally. His cock is even more than I hoped, long and thickly veined with an engorged head that is already leaking drops of fluid, he’s so excited.

“Oh—my God, Scully, my God,” he groans, pumping his fingers in and out of me, rotating his wrist. Electric shocks are radiating out through my body from my groin, and I’m so aroused that the wet, slapping noises coming from between my legs is almost obscene. We’re not touching anywhere else, and other than his hand only my hips are gyrating in rhythm to his touch. My fingers are buried, clutching, in the soft downiness of the peach-colored comforter beneath me, and when I see his other hand move to encircle his hard jutting cock I nearly come from the sight alone. “You are so fucking hot I could get off just from looking at you like this.”

I can’t take anymore. 

“Mulder—now,” I manage to utter, awash in erotic sensation; I certainly don’t need any more foreplay. I’m hypersensitive, hyperaware, so far gone that I barely remember my name or who I am. I remember who he is, though, that much is for sure.

He doesn’t hesitate. Almost before I know it he’s laying on me and I welcome his hard weight, so long denied and now welcomed. He slides his arms beneath my shoulders, rolling his long hands up and around my trapezoid muscles from behind. In return I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold him down to me, nuzzling the soft shampoo-smelling hair curling just below his ear and inhaling his wonderful, musky man-scent.

I spread my legs as far as they’ll go as he slides up into me unerringly, unhindered despite my long draught and I feel my head push back against the bedding, neck arched, mouth open, though only a whisper of sound escapes me. It’s been so long and he’s so big that this should be painful, but the stretching and pushing of Mulder inside me, filling me, is nothing but erotically wonderful. “Oh my god Scully,” he moans into my ear, his warm breath brushing over my skin like the kiss of a butterfly. My breasts are pushed up into his chest and the rubbing of hair on my nipples has me nearly there already, between that and his gentle but steady invasion below. 

He bottoms out, pauses, then pulls back and pushes back in and this time I do let out a long, low cry of sheer lust. I have not felt anything this good, ever, in my life, I’m certain. Or if I have I’ve long forgotten it. He does it again, and again, still slow and in control. “Mulder, please, faster!” I gasp, working my arms loose and reaching down to grab his ass—or as near it as I can come with my short arms. 

“Want to—make—it last—for you,” he grunts with another slow thrust and pull back, the long, powerful muscles of his back and sides flexing against my arms. “Need to pace—myself.”

“No worry, I’m almost there already,” I tell his ear breathlessly, then grab the lobe, bite down gently, then begin to suck on it. For the first time in my life, I can tell, I will have no trouble finishing with a partner; I really am on the edge and if he’ll just speed up a bit, I’ll be there.

Now it’s his turn to let out a startled yelp and between what I’m doing to his ear and my hands scrabbling for his ass, I give him no choice in the matter. He begins driving into me hard and fast, letting out little grunting moans with each stroke. 

I have, simply, gone to heaven without the fuss and trouble of dying. Yet.

My body picks up his rhythm on its own and my hips are thrusting back at him with no thought from me. I barely have the presence of mind to drag my mouth away from his earlobe before the orgasm rips through me with the power of a thousand suns, carrying me away before and with it; I hear myself cry out from what seems like miles away. I’m barely aware when his weight lifts away from my body and then I open my dazed eyes to see him up on his arms over me, still pumping forcefully but with his eyes open and staring down into mine. The recognizable love and longing in his gaze goes straight to my heart and causes a jolt in my belly and even though I’m still coming down from the previous orgasm, another washes over me like a fiery, uncontrollable tsunami—which had never happened to me before in my life. I didn’t know it could. Once again I throw my head back as much as I can and wail my pleasure at the ceiling, hands now on his lean, flexing waist as my hips meet his desperately.

I feel like my heart will break with love for this man.

Somehow, through the haze of pleasure he’s making explode through me, I hear him cry out in a deep, throaty voice and force my eyes open to watch him finish. His face is pulled taut in the grimace of orgasm, the large vein in his forehead throbbing, that soft, slick lower lip hanging loose, dark slitted eyes still burning down into mine so that I can see the pleasure shatter through his body as he’s made it burst repeatedly through mine. “Love you, Scully, oh, love you so much,” he cries out as he comes and then he slams into me one final time and stops, eyes falling shut, hips quivering against my body, head dipping to hang over me with sweat-soaked dark hair now filling my vision. 

I can only hum in reply and tug him down on me, though he keeps himself propped up on his elbows. I throw my legs over his calves to keep him in place; I don’t want him to leave me just yet even though I can feel him softening inside my body as he relaxes against me. 

We rest, letting our breathing slow, both loathe to give up the wonder that was our first sexual experience together. I knew it would be good with Mulder if he was half the lover that he was a profiler and God, was I right. I also have no doubt that it’s just as good for him; while most men seem to be happy with just about any warm piece of tail, I know that he hasn’t dated much in the years we’ve been working together so that clearly was not the case for him. It’s our mental connection that makes it extraordinary. 

Finally he makes a move to dismount and I move my legs, but as soon as he’s off of my body he scoots down and snuggles up to me, resting his head on my shoulder just above my right breast and wrapping his arms around my waist. Then his right hand languidly sweeps up and down my side from armpit to hip and back, repeating the motion and stroking me like a cat. It feels divine and I hope he never stops. “Did you guess that it would be this good between us?” he asks in a lazy, satisfied voice but with, I catch, just a tinge of uncertainty. Mulder has a bad habit of seeming totally sure of himself when he’s really not, and I know him all too well. 

“I knew it,” I assure him, letting my hands wander at will over what I can reach of him. His body, so long and hard and different from mine, is endlessly fascinating, especially those broad, muscular shoulders. Despite our sweatiness he throws one long leg over my calves and I feel his firm belly and wet penis against my hip. “There was no doubt in my mind. Why do you think that I asked you, and not, say, Pendrell or Skinner to be in my bed tonight?”

He freezes and for a moment I think he’s offended or angered, but then a snort of laughter escapes him and puffs against my upper chest. “Were Frohike or Langley in the running as well?” he asks drily, stubbly chin rasping against my skin.

“No, but I did consider Byers. I mean, come on, you ought to know by now I’ve got a thing for guys in suits,” I reply in a like tone, trying to keep the grin on my face out of my voice but certain that I’m failing. “But, you know, I’ve had this… attraction… for you for a while…”

He lifts up on one elbow and I get to see one of those so-rare Mulder grins on his striking face. The skin at the corners of his eyes is crinkled and his eyes are dark, glittering triangles, a lock of that rich mahogany hair hanging over his forehead. He is so incredibly handsome that I feel like my heart can’t bear the sight without breaking into a million pieces. Instead I let myself grin right back, feeling my heart lift rather than shatter. “Oh really? And just how long is a while?” he asks, bracing his other hand across my body. I can feel him hardening against my hip and I am thrilled. By my estimate the second session will be starting shortly, and I couldn’t be happier. There are many more things I want to do with and to this man before the night is done, and I plan to tell him that very soon.

“Hmn… half an hour? Forty-five minutes?” I hedge.

“Since we started tonight?” his voice is shocked and the grin is fading; I don’t want that.

“Since I met you, Mulder!” I say quickly. “I think I’ve loved you since I’ve known you, even if I sometimes didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

His expression relaxes and he leans down to kiss me thoroughly, resting his chest partly on mine. “Same here, Scully. You grew on me over the years, but you had me when you put your hand out to shake mine.”

By this time he is, to my surprise and delight, already fully hard again. I don’t let him escape after the kiss, holding him down on me and wiggling my hip gently against his erection. “You know, there’s plenty of night left. And there are many things I still want to do with, and to, you.”

“Jesus, Scully!”

This time we make love slowly, taking the time to explore each other’s bodies beyond the few places we got to the first time around. Mulder takes a leisurely tour of my neck and shoulders with his mouth and tongue and talented lips and I discover that it’s an erogenous zone I never suspected; then I indulge my fascination with his strong chest and make his toes curl by sucking and nibbling on his flat male nipples until they’re as hard as mine only much tinier. He kisses his way up and down my body, licking my skin every so often and declaring that I taste better than the finest wine; later I simply swoop down on his straining penis and suck in as much as I can, reveling in the yelping gasp I elicit from him with my sudden, unannounced action. Then he returns the favor by managing to turn around and diving between my legs with both hands and mouth, leaving no part of my vulva unexplored before all is said and done. I come twice before he’ll stop and though I want to get him off in my mouth, he insists on rolling me on my side so that we’re face-to-face and slowly, deliberately fucking me right out of my mind in that position while kissing me breathless. 

We rest and doze tangled together for a time and to my utter shock and delight, he wakes me by sliding his hard cock up into my willing body for an amazing third bout. This time, instead of investigating and playing with each other’s bodies, we explore new positions and try at least six different ones before we settle on the final one. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard and I climb into his lap, wrapping my legs around his hips, and slide myself up and down on his long, hard cock until we come one after another and then we know that we really are both done for the night. Both our bodies and our minds are totally satiated, complete with each other and finally knowing the fulfilling consummation of our relationship after so many years of longing.

I can see early dawn lightening the darkness beyond the white curtains of my bedroom when we curl together after the last time. Our night is over, and my heart sinks—but I can’t bring myself to say anything just yet. We lay comfortably for a while, but don’t doze off this time.

“I’d ask if I could make you breakfast but I suspect that the answer would be no,” his serious, gravelly voice says next to my ear. “Do you want me to leave now?”

Although I know that would be best I can’t bring myself to agree even if it might be a mistake of monumental proportions. We need to cut this off here, now, not let the bond grow any stronger; I didn’t realized how deeply emotional this lovemaking would be. But I can’t just chase him out like a cheap date on the morning after; he’s so much more to me and, I know, I’m so much more to him. Things will never been the same between us but, I think with gallows humor, at least it won’t be for long.

“Who says you can’t make breakfast?” I say in deliberately lazy voice, stretching in his arms. “Unless, of course, you really can’t make breakfast. Then I guess I could do it.”

The grin on his face eclipses the rising sun outside as he beams at me. “Got any Eggo waffles?”

Breakfast is, instead of a child’s commercial pun, eggs and toast with juice and coffee on the side. We end up making breakfast together; I scramble the eggs and he does the rest. Mulder grumbles about the lack of breakfast meat but I remind him that our arteries will thank us in the future. At this sally his face falls; in the camaraderie we’re sharing I have forgotten the reason for this wonderful morning.

After that we are quiet, solemn; not maudlin or angry, just accepting. It is what it is, and I sense that Mulder understands this as much as I do. After cleanup we head back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed without a word spoken between us; we showered together after getting up but, by unspoken agreement, put on the least amount of clothes possible. I’m wearing panties and his t-shirt, he is in his jeans and nothing else. 

Finally Mulder is standing by the front door, fully dressed and ready to leave. I stand in front of him, looking up into his careworn face, loving every inch of it and wondering if there will be any outward manifestation of our hearts breaking at this moment. “Just this one night, Scully?” he says, more of a statement than a question. 

“Just this one night—it can’t be any more, Mulder, for either of us,” I affirm, wanting so badly to leap into his arms that I have clamped down on myself with more iron control than I’ve ever had to use before. 

“I will never stop searching for a cure until you’re free of the cancer, Scully, and that’s a promise you can count on,” he vows, gazing down into my eyes with every bit of the love I now know he feels for me.

“I know you won’t,” I assure him. “And no matter what happens, I will always be with you here, and here,” I lay a hand over his heart then reach up and gently tap the side of his head, “if not in body and spirit.”

We gaze at each other for another long moment, then he turns away with slumped shoulders and before I fully comprehend it, the door is closing behind him. We didn’t even dare to kiss, because we both know that it would not have stopped there.

I walk slowly back into my bedroom and strip the sheets off of my bed, knowing that if I don’t change them now I never will. I would lie in our deliciously co-mingled musky scent until I couldn’t stand it anymore and called him over, and I know he’ll come, and that isn’t right. I must abide by the rules that I myself have set. We’ve had the night that we both dreamed of and it was everything I had hoped for and more; I got my dying wish. Why, then, am I so sad right now?

But I cannot face that base truth, not now or in however much time I may have left. Instead I go about what there is of my life on this day and if—when—I find my thoughts wandering to the night past, I do let myself enjoy the memory and try not think of the future.

 

finis


End file.
